


12 Days of Christmas Drabbles

by Find Me In Pops (writemeourlovestory)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Multi, findmeinpops 12 days of christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 03:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writemeourlovestory/pseuds/Find%20Me%20In%20Pops
Summary: Twelve Christmas drabbles featuring Betty Cooper x Jughead pairings and Sweet Pea x Reader pairings





	1. Day One - “I can’t reach the top of the tree to put the star on.”

**Day One - “I can’t reach the top of the tree to put the star on.”**

**Sweet Pea x Reader**

“Y/N? I’m home.” He called as he placed his bags on the kitchen table. You groaned in response and he followed your voice to the living room floor where you lay; Sweet Pea stood by your head for a moment, cocking his head and staring down at you questioningly. In answer, you stuck your bottom lip out and pulled a face asking for pity.

Brushing your hair from your forehead, he crouched down beside you. “What’s wrong babe?” You pointed to the tree standing above you and pushed your lip out even further. “The tree? It’s beautiful, you did a great job decorating, what’s wrong with it?”

You pushed yourself to sit up and swivelled on your bum to face Pea. **“I’m too short. I can’t reach the top of the tree to put the star on.”**

“You want me to do it?”

“No!” You cried probably a little too defensively. “You said I could be in charge of the tree this year; I did the lights and the baubles and I want to do the star!” Pea arched an eyebrow at the tantrum you were pulling that would put a toddler to shame. “I was going to stand on the chair but God knows I’d probably fall off and take the whole tree with me. Then I thought about using the ladder but I’d need your help for that too so I had to wait ‘til you got home from-”

He grabbed your face in his hands and ran a thumb over your cheek. Pea looked into your eyes willing you to calm down.

“Y/N, would you like me to help you put the star on the tree?”

At your nod he stood and offered you a hand up but once you were upright he crouched down again.

“What?”

“Jump on.” The words were said so seriously but you still could not tell if he was joking or not. “Come on, climb on my shoulders.”

Hesitantly, you edged towards him and clumsily slipped onto his shoulders. He held your legs tight against his chest and slowly stood, not wobbling once.

“Holy- Oh my God! How are you so tall?! How the hell do you not fall or faint all the time?” A chuckle rippled through him as he picked the star up from the table and held it up to you.

“I’ve been this tall for a little while, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes, taking the ornament off him and leaning over to the tree. “And it’s my head up here not my feet; if I fell over all the time I think there’d be a design flaw.”

Still ignoring your boyfriend, you pushed the star onto the top branch and straightened it. “There.”

Pea took a few steps back and looked up himself. A grin spread over his face, “Perfect.” His expression soon changed to one of concern, though, as you began to lean over his head to thank him with a kiss.

“Y/N, what are you doing? Seriously, we’re going to-” before you really knew what was going on, the pair of you toppled over onto the nearby sofa. You landed in a fit of giggles and you continued as Pea pulled you onto his lap in a tight hug.

“What are we going to do with you?” he whispered once your giggles had dissolved. Pea nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck and you leant into the embrace, enjoying the comfortable silence.

After a while you swivelled to straddle his lap and face him, placing a hand on his cheek. “Thank you, Pea.” You took his lips in a sweetly tender kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	2. Day Two - “No, that’s not daddy, that’s Santa.”

**Day Two - “No, that’s not daddy, that’s Santa.”**

**Sweet Pea x Reader**

“How the fuck did you persuade me to do this?” Pea had not stopped moaning and complaining since you handed him the Father Christmas suit. Your hands fumbled over the buttons on his shirt threatened by the faux pot belly underneath whilst he pulled the beard over his head.

“Because you love me and, more importantly, Alex and Charley.” You raised your eyebrows, giving him a meaningful look. “And no swearing in front of the children.” He rolled his eyes but you knew he understood.

The first few weeks after Alex has been born he had watched his mouth but slowly a few minor profanities slipped out every now and then but when Charley said ‘shit’ last week in her class the pair of you had made a decided effort to minimise the swearing in front of the children, especially when their friends were round.

You planted a kiss on his cheek before leaving him to finish dressing himself.

The front room was filled with ten eagerly waiting children, all on a chocolate and gingerbread-fuelled sugar high, even the air around them was vibrating. It had been Betty’s idea to have a Christmas get-together for the new generation of Riverdalians but Jug had been called away on work, all of a sudden and you had offered to take some of the weight of of Betty’s shoulders.

“Are you ready for a very special visitor?” Although everyone was in your house, Betty had still taken charge (not that you were complaining) and was stood at the front, ring-leading the hoard of children.

You perched on the arm of a chair at the back of the room and sat back for the show. “Ho, ho, ho!” Pea, come Santa, arrived with an overzealous cry and you couldn’t help the smirk playing on your lips. Despite all the complaints and protests you could see how much he enjoyed watching the kids’ faces light up. He had changed from the tough guy he used to be. Everyone had noted the change when he met you but it did not compare after the girls were born.

“Daddy!” Charley hurriedly bounced up from her position on the floor and ran full speed at her father. She stopped at his feet and stared inquisitively up at him. “What are you wearing? You look silly!” She giggled. All the adults couldn’t help but join in.

“ **No, that’s not daddy,** sweetie,” Betty rushed to Pea’s aid, leading Charley back to her seat, “ **that’s Santa!** ”


	3. Day Three - Catching snowflakes on your tongue

**Day Three - Catching snowflakes on your tongue**

**Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones**

Milk? Check. Bread? Check. Eggs? Check. Wine? Check.

With the last four things from her list in her basket, Betty headed to the check out and paid. She had returned to her parents’ house in Riverdale for the holidays and had taken shopping as an opportunity to get out of the house. Her mother Alice Cooper had invited her book club round for festive drinks and a catch up which lead to twelve tipsy middle-aged women obsessing over your dating life, or lack thereof, and them listing off the eligible bachelors in the entire country. When Rose had pulled up the ‘Top 50 Hottest Men in the World’ Betty had made a break for it. No one wanted to see their mother and her friends trolling through endless pictures of guys and discussing what they’d love to do to them. Urgh. Sometimes she wondered if they were even related.

It was a feat for Betty to make it out of the shop door with her weight in groceries hanging off her arms and, not wanting to break her neck on the sheet of ice that lined every pavement in Riverdale, she called for a taxi, taking shelter in the coffee shop next door whilst she waited. It was the 20th of December and the town was freezing. Snow hadn’t fallen since last week but the evidence was still apparent. 

Riverdale was possibly the farthest place from anywhere so it didn’t surprise her when it took almost half an hour for the driver to reach her but he made up for it by helping her lift her bags into the boot and holding the door as she climbed in. On the back seat sat the local paper and she thumbed through the pages lazily, looking to waste time.

Ethel Muggs, a girl she had gone to school with, had married a nice boy named Ben at the town hall, there was a long piece on jingle jangle as well as an extensive review of the renovation Ronnie’s speakeasy had recently had. Pride swelled in her chest as she saw her best friend beaming next to the mayor; the amount of work Veronica had put into her new business was astounding and she had come far from the small room underneath Pop Tate’s shop.

Then there was the recent exhibition featuring Jughead Jones’ work. Considering his start in life, he had made quite a name for himself. Betty and Jughead had crossed paths every now and again but he had gone to the school on the South Side and they lived so far apart they had never truly spoken. She knew, however, that he was staying with his dad for Christmas in his house around the corner from the Coopers. FP and Alice were friends, having been to school together, but still Betty and Jughead had never truly spoken. Straight out of high school he had gotten a job as the photographer for the local paper but hadn’t spent long there; he wanted to make art. He had had numerous exhibits, none particularly large, but still enough that everyone in a 100-mile radius of Riverdale had heard of him.

Betty was admiring his work when a specific photo caught her eye. Taken outside the local bar, was a blonde-haired girl laughing in the street as she tried to catch the falling snow on her tongue.

It was her. It was Betty.

She wasn’t quite sure what she thought. Every question, every thought possible flew through her head. She ran her finger over the image, tracing the snowflakes as she began to untangle the words spinning around her mind.

Confusion seemed the main emotion; confused by the situation: how she hadn’t spotted him, why he had taken the photo, why he had published it. She still wasn’t convinced it was her - that smiling girl in the picture, it seemed a world away.

Betty remembered that night fondly. Her and Ronnie had sat in Joe’s Bar for hours, sipping cocktails, gossiping, giggling and chatting until they were kicked out at 2am. Living on opposite sides of the town they had parted at the door just as it started to snow. Slightly tipsy and high on happiness and laughter, she had sung Christmas songs all the way home.

“We’ve arrived miss.” Still very much occupied with the discovery, she handed the driver a couple of bills, half-heartedly thanked him and climbed out onto the pavement outside her house. Betty was unaware she still held the newspaper under her arm but the driver seemed oblivious anyway.

Carefully putting one foot in front of the other, she walked up the path, ringing the doorbell and throwing the grocery bags into her mother’s arms before taking off back down the path.

“I’ll be back! I’ve got to go do something.” She shouted over her shoulder to her more than bewildered mother.

With the paper still in hand, she made her way to FP Jones’ house and, with her heart in her throat, she rang the doorbell. As she waited, she began to doubt her sanity. Betty had always been a fairly logical person but now she was outside the house of a near-stranger. She had half a mind to tuck tail and run but the shadow at the door froze her on the spot.

Sleepily rubbing his eyes, having just woken from a nap, Jughead answered the door. He was surprised to see her, to say the least and he rushed to fix his bed hair as confusion clouded his expression.

“Betty?” The shock of him knowing her name left her speechless for a moment and she simply held Jughead’s feature up to him. The confusion cleared as a subtle blush coloured his cheeks and he sheepishly took the paper from Betty’s hands.

“I, um-” he took a second to arrange his thoughts into a coherent sentence, “I’m sorry, I should have asked before I… err…” Jughead gestured to the paper before tracing the image as returned to his musings.

“But why?” she further questioned, dissatisfied by his answer. He refused to look up from the paper but a small smile tugged at his lips.

“The joy on your face,” he deliberated each word before it passed his lips, “it was so pure, innocent and beautiful.” Hesitation was evident in his voice as he took care in not saying too much. “The happiness you were feeling emanated around you. On a night when most would be cold and miserable you were so delighted and my work,” he took a breath, still focused on the photo in front of him, “is about beauty. With my camera, I capture what I find beautiful about the world, things that interest me and inspire. And at that moment,” he finally looked up and his gaze met yours, it was soft and emotional, he truly meant every word he was saying, “it was you.”


	4. Day Four - “I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you.”

**Day Four - “I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you.”**

**Sweet Pea x Reader**

**Part One**

Sweet Pea was the dark horse of the football team. Part of the local gang, he and his friends ruled the school. What was rumour or not, no one knew, but the population of Riverdale had heard all the stories of the team’s communal effort to screw every female in the school. Everyone but Sweet Pea. He had always seemed disinterested in his friend’s antics - he was still by no means not a douchebag - but he was not a follower of the ‘screw everything that moves’ culture that his friends had established.

Despite the apparent disinterest, however, over the past few days he seemed to have found an unprovoked interest in you. It started with you catching him staring at you several times and, at first, you assumed you had done something and he was plotting your death but then, one day, out of the blue, he’d sat next you in class, which had earned you a few raised eyebrows and questioning glances from your best friends Ronnie and Betty. The lesson was largely spent in an unsettled silence but he spent the last ten minutes incredibly interested in you, your family and your home life. When you returned the questions, though, it was met with silence, avoidance and a new question. All in all, it seemed a little bizarre to you. Your friends, however, took it as ammunition to tease you but to be honest, you had no interest. Every person on the football team was an arsehole and just because Sweet Pea didn’t outwardly show it, didn’t meant he wasn’t. As far as Sweet Pea was concerned, you were keeping your distance.

That was until the Blossom Christmas party. Once a year, every year, Clifford and Penelope Blossom would disappear on a couple’s trip for the weekend, leaving Nana Rose and Cheryl home alone. Therefore, Cheryl would invite almost the entire school over for a house party. This year, Betty and Ronnie had begged and pleaded you into reluctantly going. So there you stood, arm in arm with your two best friends outside Thornhill.

Both had promised to stay by your side but Ronnie had spotted Archie, her new love interest for this month, after just walking through the door, and Betty had dragged you over to Jughead where you felt very much a third wheel. Jughead joked and Betty giggled and quipped back with smart remarks, they tried their very best to be inclusive yet you began to feel like a burden on their conversation. Awkwardly, you looked around for someone, anyone you knew but alas, you came up empty.

“I’ll just go grab a drink, you want anything?” They shook their heads so as not to interrupt their flowing conversation on the importance of journalism and free speech in the modern age and you took your leave, sauntering over to the drinks table to pour yourself a coke.

Normally you would drink but it was incredibly likely that you would have to make your own way home as it wouldn’t be long until Ronnie jumped Archie’s bones and Jughead and Betty had been known to disappear for hours on end.

There was a quiet spot in the corner of the room where you made yourself comfortable, somewhere you could observe the party and keep an eye on your friends but a place out of the way and a little less claustrophobic.

You enjoyed your little spot, quietly sipping on your drink and humming along to the Christmas songs playing through the speaker; you were in your own bubble, oblivious to what was around you, a little too oblivious.

“Earth to Y/N.” Sweet Pea appeared in front of you, beer in hand, waving the other in front of your face. You groaned internally but looked up and smiled pleasantly, hoping that you could bore him into leaving you alone. “Big parties not your thing either? How come you came?”

You gestured to your friends on the other side of the room. “Supervising Veronica and Betty.” Keeping your answer short but not being rude either seemed the way to go.

“Ah.”

He looked to them. Almost telepathically, Jughead looked up and nodded to Pea in silent recognition, something that probably only Serpents understood. He moved his eyes to Veronica and snickered as she and Archie attempted to subtly sneak into a back room; whilst incredibly tipsy, they were unsuccessful in their feat.

“Called it.” You muttered to yourself, taking another sip of your drink.

“They seem to be in… capable hands.” Amusement was evident in his voice, he’d heard your comment. He thought for a moment before continuing, “want to get out here?” You rolled your eyes and scoffed, he wasn’t any different to the football team after all.

“No! I didn’t mean that!” He hurried to correct himself. “I only meant let’s go get some fresh air, it’s becoming a little… pungent in here.” He was correct. Sweat, alcohol and vomit laced the air and it only threatened to get worse. “Unless you want to of course.” Sweet Pea wiggled his eyebrows in a mock-suggestive manner. A giggle broke through your exterior and he knew he had won.

You handed him your drink which he abandoned on the side and offered you an arm.

“M’lady.”

The crowd seemed to part around him as he lead you to the doorway. Without prompting, he picked up your coat and helped you put it on. As he waited for you to do the buttons up, he idly ran his eyes around the room before stopping and chuckling. You followed his gaze to a bunch of mistletoe above your head.

“No.”

“But tradition-“ he tried to argue but you cut him off short.

**“I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you.”**

“Of course.” He opened the front door before offering you his arm again. “Wouldn’t want to sully your reputation anyway.” You took it and he led you out the door into the cold winter’s night.


	5. Day Five - “If you throw that snowball you’re declaring war.”

**Day Five - “If you throw that snowball you’re declaring war.”**

**Sweet Pea x Reader**

**Part Two**

Although snow had covered the ground when you had arrived, it had continued to fall heavily over the past hour. Holding onto Sweet Pea tightly, you followed what you thought was the path into the garden. You regretted wearing the heeled ankle boots, it was better than the stilettos Ronnie was wearing, but the snow soaked through the material and flowed over the top of your shoes freezing your feet into what felt like ice blocks.

“Oh my god.” You stopped in your tracks and Sweet Pea turned to see what the problem was. “It’s freezing and this is ridiculous. My feet are- wait, what are you doing?”

Without so much as a word, he scooped you up bridal style, as if you weighed nothing more than a bag of flour, and continued to walk; taking effortless long strides, he carried you to the bench near the tree line and placed you next to it.

“Thank you, you didn’t need to do that.” He began to brush the layer of snow from the seat of the bench making room for the pair of you to sit.

“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you freeze to death?” Sweet Pea replied nonchalantly as he sat down and motioned for you to take a place next to him.

You retracted your previous statement; he was nothing like the rest of the football team. Still taken aback, you had to sit there for a moment. Rather than speaking, you took in your surroundings instead. The building was grand, a renovated mansion from the past which overlooked the grounds. The gardens of Thornhill were illuminated by several old-fashioned street lanterns; the light hit the settled snow just right making the cover sparkle as if made from thousands of diamonds. The grounds themselves were fairly simple with minimal flowerbeds and a structured tree line separating the property from the rest of the world.

“Beautiful, isn’t it.” Sweet Pea mused, gazing at the landscape too.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you stared up at him.

“What?” he asked softly, turning to face you and returning your expression.

“You’re not what I expected.” It was blunt but it was true. As cheesy as it was, this was proof to you that you should not judge a book by its cover or the reputation that proceeds it.

“And that’s a good or a bad thing?” You knew he was joking but you could not help feeling a little guilty. No one wants to hear that everyone thinks you’re an arsehole.

“It’s a good thing, a great thing even. You’re not…” Quick to reassure him you hadn’t thought about what you would say next. You paused as your mind rushed to find a slightly more innocuous term.

“A douchebag?” Now your face heated up - how could you be so rude.

“No offence.” Your eyes darted across his face, trying to read his emotions but the dim light and shadows falling across him made it near impossible.

“None taken.” Suddenly his lap became of great interest to him, tracing patterns on his trousers as he contemplated his next words. “I’ve heard what they sat and I know what Reggie and that lot get up to, it’s just not really my scene y’know.”

That could quite possibly be the first time you had heard him talk seriously. There was no sarcasm or humour behind it, there was no hostility or guard. However, talking about himself obviously made him uncomfortable but he was trying and that meant a lot. To hazard a guess, he didn’t open up to many people, if anyone at all.

“But you’re friends with them and you’re still friends with them. How come?” You probed further, fully prepared for the doors to slam shut but he answered.

“I love playing football. I’ve never been great at books and stuff, I’m not failing by any means, but I never enjoyed it.” There was a switch in his tone; that was as far as he was going to take it and that was fine be you. “I enjoy football though and if that means putting up with the football then so be it.” He still avoided eye contact with you and the pair of you sat in comfortable silence. The snow continued to fall heavily and it seemed to dance in the light of the lanterns - it was the sort of scene you saw in the movies.

After a moment had passed, he stood up and it seemed he was going to walk off and abandon you but he stopped a few feet away. Sweet Pea kicked the snow in a flourish before a cheeky smile took over his previously unrevealing face.

He bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. You quickly stood up and held up your hands in surrender.

“No. This isn’t fair.” The tone in your voice was reminiscent of a toddler having a tantrum. “You had to carry me over. Don’t.”

The smile transformed into a smirk as he continued to compress the snow into a ball. If this was him getting back at you for breaking through his facade…

 **“If you throw that snowball you’re declaring war.”** Giving up any prospect of resisting the cold, you bent down too and scooped up your own handful of snow but you were too slow. As soon as you were upright, an expertly thrown snowball hit you square in the chest.

“Hey!”

With that, all hell broke loose.


	6. Day Six - Bughead as Mr and Mrs Claus

**Day Six - Bughead as Mr and Mrs Claus**

**Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones**

“Oi! Jughead, blondie!” Sweet Pea hollered at Betty and her boyfriend at the other side of the cafeteria, searching the room for the Serpents. “Over here!”

“How many times, Sweet Pea? Betty. My name’s Betty.” An exasperated Betty placed her tray a little too loudly onto the table and sat next to Toni.

“And how many times do I have to tell you?” He quipped back as Jughead slid next to his girlfriend. “I’m not going to shout ‘Betty’ across the room, you need a nickname!”

She rolled her eyes at his antics. Jughead and Sweet Pea had been friends forever, they had grown up on Sunnyside Trailer Park together and had never really done anything without each other. When Jughead has started dating Betty a month ago, however, he had felt a little betrayed and they went a whole weekend without speaking. Although he would never admit it, Betty had been growing on him.

“So,” Sweet Pea continued, leaning over to the couple opposite, “you looking forward to your date tomorrow?” He wiggled his eyebrows jokingly.

“Our what?” Betty turned to Jughead who seemed equally as confused.

“Oh, shit, I forgot to tell you.” Toni’s eyes finally left her phone and were laced with guilt. Sweet Pea and Fangs smothered their giggles.

“What?”

“Bombshell,” Toni gestured to her phone, “was helping plan the annual party for the children in poverty in the local area and I put you two down to make an appearance as Mr and Mrs Claus…”

Sweet Pea and Fangs no longer attempted to conceal their laughter and exploded as Betty and Jughead stared at each in other, both in shock. It wasn’t really either of their things and the horror at the prospect was evident in Jughead’s eyes. However, Toni begged for their help and Betty managed to persuade Jug to spend twenty minutes feeling awkward and uncomfortable to make a group of kids’ Christmas.

The following morning, Cheryl arrived at Jughead’s trailer with two brand new costumes.

“I look ridiculous!” Betty shouted from the bedroom. Jughead looked up from the novel he was reading as she entered, giving a twirl.

The chuckle that threatened to escape from his chest was swallowed as he simply raised his eyebrows and said “don’t you look festive(!)”. She toddled down the trailer, her skirt struggling to fit down the narrow walk way. It was bright red with a faux white apron sewn along the front; gorgeous gold embroidery decorated the hem of the skirt. It was a beautifully tacky costume and she didn’t even have the wig on.

“I hate this dress and this wig!” Placing his book on the chair, he sauntered over to her.

“Just think of the children’s faces.” His mocking tone mimicked Betty’s earlier words, earning him a glare and an elbow to the ribs.

“But really, you look beautiful as always,” he took hold of her face, running and thumb over her cheek bone, “even under all these layers of plastic.” Lovingly, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Before separating, he leant his forehead against hers, looking deep into her eyes. “The dress may look ridiculous but so will I, my love.”

After taking a breath, she nodded slowly.

“Right, you need to go change.” Pressing her lips to his cheek, she sent him off.

“And you need to pop your wig on, Mrs Claus.”


	7. Day Seven - Giving a speech at a holiday party

**Day Seven - Giving a speech at a holiday party**

**Sweet Pea x Reader**

“Good evening everyone!” Veronica stood at the mic at the front of her speakeasy. Electricity buzzed through the air and the crowd was bubbling with chatter, joy and general tipsiness. On the last day of school the news quickly spread of Ronnie’s end of school holiday party and almost half the school were there.

“Thank you all so much for coming! I promise a night of music, festivities and Christmas cocktails but first…” No, oh no, she wasn’t. Throughout your life, you had never been one for birthdays. You never threw parties or asked for presents. It was just another day. It was also today.

“I’m going to invite my bestest friend, Y/N, onto the stage.” The entire room erupted into applause and everyone turned to you. In that moment, you had never wanted the floor to open up and swallow you more. Every pair of eyes in the room were focused on you as blood rushed to you cheeks and your hands became clammy. “This wonderful person,” she continued as you slowly and reluctantly made your way to the front, “helped me with, who am I kidding, singlehandedly, created all of this festiveness around you!” She gestured to the room around you and you had to give a hand to yourself, you had done a good job.

Garlands of green, red and silver hung from the bar, stage and stairs. Fairy lights glowed from every surface, giving the room a gorgeous golden glow. A grand tree stood proudly in the centre of the room, decorated so meticulously with silvers and golds and loads and loads of glitter. It looked like Christmas well and truly threw up in there.

“It’s also Y/P/N birthday!” The room answered with a chorus of ‘HOORAY!” which confirmed what the smell in the air already told you, everyone in that room was at least incredibly tipsy if not completely drunk. “So please give Y/N a hand!”

Tentatively, you made your way up to the microphone, welcomed by ‘SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!’

If you survived this, you were going to make Ronnie pay. She knew you hated attention. The only positive thing about the situation was that it was unlikely that anyone in the crowd would remember if you tumbled over the edge.

“Hey everyone.” The quivering of your words gave you away.

“I have never been one for birthdays, I much prefer Christmas. Hence all this.” Taking a deep breath, you gathered your thoughts to attempt to create a coherent speech. “Christmas is a time for being together and spreading joy and peace. A time for people to gather, just like this,” you paused as the room cheered and you felt your muscles relax slightly. “A time for friends and family to share their love for one another.”

You searched the crowd, locking eyes with each of your friends in turn: Ronnie, Betty, Jughead and Pea. “Talking of friends,” your eyes lingered on Pea’s a little longer than the rest and he gave you a small smile which you returned, “Pea, one of my closest friends, helped me decorate. He deserves as much credit as I do.” Sheepishly, he shook his head, a blush colouring his cheeks as the room erupted into applause again. To be fair, at this point you were pretty sure that you could ask the crowd literally anything and they would do it.

“I remember the first day we met. During the previous month, I had been being bullied each day by a group of guys. It was his first day at Riverdale High and he befriended me, making sure that the bullies never touched me again. He means the world to me.” Every word you spoke, you meant wholeheartedly. From that day forward, you had gotten closer and closer. Pea introduced you to his friends and, when eventually you made your own friends, you introduced him to them. “Since that day I have never been apart from him.” And you never wanted to ever again.

“Woah, this speech is going in a different direction.” You stopped yourself. You were meant to be saying a few words about Christmas and friends but now it was becoming an ‘all about Pea’ speech. Taking a deep breath, you centred yourself, bring your mind back to the room full of people and out of the memories.

“Alright…” The crowd were all expectantly waiting for your next words but they’d have to wait. Every thought in your head was completely occupied by Pea and that feeling… what was that sensation?

How you felt anger in your veins, sadness behind your eyes and dread in that pit in your gut, you had always felt happiness and affection in your chest, inside your rib cage. But that happiness when you were around Pea deep in your chest, it had changed. Not suddenly but gradually it had changed. With each moment you spent in his company, that love for him, that utter joy that he was your best friend, that uplifting heat deep inside your chest, it had morphed.

As the realisation washed over you, it must have been clear as day on your face and you daren’t look over to him, terrified of what his expression may be. Instead you search the crowd for Ronnie, stood at the foot of the stage - the person who had always been able to read you like a book.

An encouraging smile lit her entire face as mouthed ‘Do it!’ to you. Tentatively you took your lip between your teeth. Were you going to do it? It would be a risk with either amazing benefits or dire consequences; you could either lose him or have a chance at having him forever. You still could not bare to look at him, your eyes locked with Ronnie’s as you ran the options through your head.

Fuck it.

“This speech is going in a different direction but let’s let it. Sweet Pea has been with me every step of the way, ever since that day in the cafeteria. We have never been apart for more than a day and now I realise that I never want to again. Sweet Pea, I love you.”

Finally, you looked back to where he was stood, hoping, praying he hadn’t ran for the hills. Maybe he felt the same way? You looked back to where he had been stood and he was gone. Tears began streaming down your face. No. God no, what had you done?

Your eyes met Ronnie’s as you wished for the floor to open up and swallow you whole for the second time that night. Her eyes, however, were filled with frustration as she jumped up and down waving her arms, trying to get your attention.

“He’s over there!” She pointed to where a second set of stairs connected the floor and the other side of the stage.

Sweet Pea stood at the foot of them. He saw you see him and he beckoned for you to come to him. You didn’t need telling twice.

Desperate, you ran to him, launching yourself into his arms, almost knocking him flat on his back. Holding him tight, you sobbed into his neck.

“Why are you crying?” He chuckled. You stood back so you could see him properly.

“I thought you’d left.”

Gently, he pushed your fringe from where it covered your eyes and held your face.

“Never.” His other hand came to the other cheek and he wiped the last falling tear away with his thumb. “I love you too.”

Finally, your lips crashed together in what seemed the most long-awaited kiss ever.


	8. Day Eight - A Year Later

**Day Eight - A Year Later**

** Sweet Pea x Reader **

** Part Three **

Despite all you had said before, you struggled to stay away from Sweet Pea. He certainly wasn’t open with you but there was something about the way you two communicated. After only being friends for over a week you could read each other’s slightest movement and a year later it had gotten to the point where your friends had decided you were telepathic.

Each lesson you had together was spent sat at the same desk interrogating the other on all of life’s questions. The hours would disappear when you were together with the exact same humour and outlook on life, yet slightly different experiences, neither of you could get enough of the other.

At lunchtime the other day, before Pea arrived, Ronnie had asked what you were and honestly, you didn’t know.

“Come on, you spend practically every waking hour with the boy. Are you really telling me you haven’t slept with him?” Choking on your food in shock, you were quick to deny it. “Not even kissed?”

After checking for any signs of Sweet Pea himself, you put their probing questions to rest. “First, we don’t spend every waking hour together,” Veronica silently raised an eyebrow in disagreement but allowed you to continue, “and secondly, it’s just not like that with us.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to.” Betty hinted, giving rise to a blush in your cheeks which you futilely tried to hide with your hair.

“Ha! I knew it!” Every head in the cafeteria turned to Veronica’s slightly too loud cry.

“I’m not denying that there is potential there. It just hasn’t happened yet and I don’t know if he even feels the same way.” Sweet Pea entered the room and you motioned for them to shut up.

“That settles it.” Blantantly ignoring you, Veronica pulled out her phone and continued to speak. “You and Sweet Pea will come to my Christmas party on Friday.

“But there is no-“

“There is now.” She cut you off as she sent a mass text message inviting practically the whole school to her house.

“You’ll have to take it up with Pea.”

“She’ll have to take what up with Pea?”

The voice of Pea behind you took you by surprise but you covered it well, “Party at Ronnie’s on Friday.”

“Sounds like fun.” He agreed, taking his place beside you, giving you a wink and nudge with his shoulder.

 

So that Friday, you and Pea met outside the Lodges’ house. Although it should not be any different from the past year, your heart was racing and you felt paranoid with every movement you made and word you spoke.

“Are you alright?” You nodded in answer and Pea offered you an arm. “You know this is kind of our anniversary.” He seemed oblivious to your anxiety and you were glad. “Maybe not the exact date but we became friends at a Christmas party last year.”

“Uh huh.” Avoiding looking at him, you admired the decorations in the hallway. It was more modern that the Blossoms’ mansion and the decorations were in a larger abundance but it was eerily similar to last year. For all you know you would end up chatting at the table for five minutes before ditching. You couldn’t bring yourself to walk inside and so awkwardly stopped in the doorway.

“Seriously, Y/N, what’s up?” He gripped your shoulders and turned you to face him.

“I… Ronnie, she… I…” The mess of words in your head wouldn’t form coherent sentences. As you tried to piece them together, you let your eyes wander the room before stopping at the archway above you. You had got to be kidding. Ronnie did this on purpose.

Curious, Pea followed your eyes to the mistletoe above. With a brief glance, asking for your consent, he leant in for a tender kiss. To you, the rest of the world didn’t exist in that moment. You knew Veronica would be watching and quite possibly the entire party but you didn’t care; you had your Pea.

“M’lady.” He offered you an arm once you broke apart which you happily took and he led you inside.

The smile could not be wiped from your face for the rest of the night and, spoiler alert, you didn’t leave early; instead you sat in the corner and got lost in each other’s company until the early hours of the morning. The End.


	9. Day Nine - Making s’mores in the fireplace when the power is out

**Day Nine - Making s’mores in the fireplace when the power is out**

**Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones**

“Jug?” Betty called from where she was curled up in an armchair in the living room. Snow was falling outside and it was cold both inside and out so she was wrapped up in a fluffy blanket, her laptop nestled in her lap as she typed furiously away.

“Yes?” Jughead was busy routing through a cupboard, looking for something that Betty didn’t know what. To be honest, she hadn’t really been paying much attention, to absorbed in writing her weekly piece for the paper.

“Could you pass me the charger? It’s on the kitchen table, I think.”

Jughead surfaced from the cupboard and looked pointedly at his wife. “I mean, I can but I don’t think it’ll do you much good.”

“Why? What’ve you done?” Panic laced her voice as she looked up from her laptop for the first time.

“Are you really that oblivious?” He chuckled. “I didn’t do anything! If you wanted to blame anyone, blame Mother Nature.”

Her brows furrowed. How could ‘Mother Nature’ have broken her charger? Had Jug left it outside?

“The snow has taken down the power lines just outside town and-”

“No no no no,” she interrupted him in a blind panic, working to quickly save the little she had already written, “my article’s already late and my laptop’s going to die any second!”

“Hey,” he came to her, resting his arms around her shoulders, “there’s nothing you can do! Unless you have a magic snow melting machine or a secret generator that I don’t know about…”

Just that second the laptop died. Sighing, she closed it and lent back into Jug’s embrace, closing her eyes.

“There’s always good ol’ fashioned pen and paper. Write the article, scan it over as soon as the power’s back and get the secretary or someone to type it up.” He placed a kiss on her cheek.

“I guess but you know how messy my writing is, no one except me and you can read it.” Suddenly her face lit up and she turned in the chair to face her husband. “Juggy?” She sang sweetly.

“Yes.” He sighed. He knew that tone all too well.

“Can I borrow your typewriter? Please?” She drew out the ‘please’ nice and long whilst smiling that smile which would make angels commit sin.

“Yes,” she clapped excitedly and gave Jug a very enthusiastic kiss, interrupting him mid sentence, “on one condition: you find the candles - they’re not in that cupboard.”

“‘Course,” she replied, “they’re in the bedroom in a box but I’ll go grab them.” With that she ran upstairs.

Betty was sat on the floor lighting candles when Jughead re-emerged with an armful of things, including the typewriter.

“I got us some supplies - fancy s’mores.” Jug offered to light the fire as Betty assembled the marshmallows onto sticks and prepared the typewriter.

It was a picturesque scene. Betty and Jug were sat together by the fire, surrounded by a dozen burning candles. Snacking on s’mores, Betty was busy on her article as Jug read his novel for the week. All in all, it was a perfect night in.


	10. Day Ten - “I let the kids decorate the tree, then when they go to bed, I completely start over. Because let’s be honest, they make a crap tree.”

**Day Ten - “I let the kids decorate the tree, then when they go to bed, I completely start over. Because let’s be honest, they make a crap tree.”**

**Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones**

“Honey, I’m home!” Jughead called, popping his keys on the shelf by the door and hanging his coat up. “It smells amazing! Having you been baki- Woah! Oh my God!” He walked into the kitchen, or what he thought was the kitchen; every surface was covered in trays and trays in brightly coloured cookies. “I guess that’s a yes. It looks like Christmas threw up in here!” He dumped his bag on one of the kitchen chairs and embraced his wife, who was stood washing up mixing bowls in the sink.

“Do you think we did too much?” Careful not to touch his smart suit with her soapy hands, she turned to kiss him.

“Maybe a little… Why so many?” Jughead tucked a wipsy strand of her hair behind her ear and gently rubbed her shoulders.

“Well the kids wanted to bake cookies for Santa and there’s a cake sale at school which they needed some for as well as some for Mrs Miniver next door, we need to thank her for babysitting the kids.” She dried her hands after finishing the last of the dishes and turned to give her husband a proper welcome home.

“None left for us then?” Jughead pouted, pressing his forehead against Betty’s.

“Well there’s some for Santa.” She looked pointedly at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Awesome!” He turned to steal a cookie from the nearest plate but Betty whipped him with the tea towel.

“Hey!” He retaliated, holding his arms up in surrender. “You said I could have one!”

“No,” taking his hands in hers, she looked up to him, admiring his effortlessly perfectly tousled hair from a day’s work, “I said Santa could and everyone knows he doesn’t come until Christmas Eve.”

Standing on her tiptoes, she pecked his lips before turning back to the dishes, “go say goodnight to the girls. After I’ve put these away I need to sort the tree out.”

“I thought you said the girls had decorated it today?” He questioned from the doorway.

“They did.” Spoons in hand, she turned back to face him again, “but it’s the same each year. **I let the kids decorate the tree, then when they go to bed, I completely start over. Because let’s be honest, they make a crap tree.** ”

Jughead rolled his eyes but he loved everything about his wife; even the way she liked to be in control and her Christmas to be nothing less than perfect. He was so lucky to have her and he thanked God for it each day.

With one more look at the thousands of biscuits, he made his way up the stairs to his daughters’ bedrooms.


	11. Day Eleven - “I have a decoration in my bathroom. It’s a snowman holding a plunger and it makes stupid bathroom-christmas related puns. ‘Ho ho ho, whose gotta go?’”

**Day Eleven - “I have a decoration in my bathroom. It’s a snowman holding a plunger and it makes stupid bathroom-christmas related puns. ‘Ho ho ho, whose gotta go?’”**

**Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones**

“I’m sorry to leave you so early.” Veronica finished the last of her hot cocoa before picking up the card Betty gave her and putting it in her bag. “I just need to give Archie a hand putting the kids to bed and-”

“Don’t worry about it!” Betty insisted, helping Ronnie with her coat. “I’ve got someone coming over anyway.”

“On Christmas Eve? How romantic.” She mused, doing the buttons up on her coat.

“Not really,” Betty opened the front door, “I just normally binge tv and drink wine. Christmas is overrated anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” She embraced Betty, kissing each cheek before stepping onto the doorstep. “Call me if you need anything and have an amazing Christmas tomorrow!”

“You too Vee.” After giving another wave, she shut the door. Then it was time to cook dinner.

 

The doorbell rang at exactly 8pm. She had been reluctant to invite him over, dating had never really worked for Betty. The guys she had dated were either so boring she struggled to not fall asleep during the conversations they had or absolute douchebags - there seemed to be no in between. However, her mother had been going on at her about ‘finding a man’ and she figured one date every few months would be enough to satiate Alice Cooper. Never anything expensive, always dinner at her house and (if they were lucky) a film afterwards - but that didn’t happen often. Betty liked being alone. To her, it was better to be capable, independent and single rather than being in a relationship and having to deal with another person’s drama. Life was less complicated alone.

Untying her sauce-covered apron, she rushed to fix her hair before answering the door.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Her date stood on the doorstep proudly holding a bottle of wine. He was a little smarter than the photo on his profile. Clearly, he had just had his hair cut which is why it was looking far more tamed and he was wearing a shirt covered in mini Christmas puddings.

“Jughead?” She asked tentatively, motioning for him to come inside. He planted a kiss on her cheek before handing the wine to her.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Is that a nickname or…” Betty felt a little rude asking.

“Nickname but I’ve just always been called it - not really sure why.” He unzipped his jacket and Betty gladly took it from him, hanging it on the banister.

“Ah, okay.” The awkwardness was tangible and Betty was already regretting her choice.

“So,” Jughead attempted to make conversation as he followed her through to the kitchen, “is there a law that only applies to you?”

“Huh?”

“You have no lights up, no decorations, no nothing - is there a law against your house?” Whilst he joked, he watched over the food, giving it a quick stir whilst Betty got the plates out.

“I have a decoration in my bathroom, if that’s any consolation,” she replied, “it’s a snowman holding a plunger and it makes stupid bathroom-Christmas related puns. ‘Ho ho ho, whose gotta go?’”

“Don’t joke about that.” He quipped back, pointing a large serving spoon at her. “That would be amazing and I 100% would buy that.”

Betty started giggling and for the first time that night, she wasn’t dreading sitting down to eat.

He helped her dish up and carried the plates over to the table whilst she grabbed some glasses and the wine he had brought.

“So you don’t like Christmas then?” Previously, people had been so horrified that a girl in her early twenties was not interested in such a holiday, that his blasé manner shocked her. Not in a bad way, it was just a little different to what she was used to.

“It’s not that I dislike Christmas but more that I don’t actively like it.” Idly swirling her wine in her glass, she thought for a moment before continuing. “I think it’s because it has so much pressure attached to it and, as a kid, my mother always controlled Christmas to be undeniably perfect in her way, so when I moved out, I made Christmas my own.”

“And that is…” he prompted her to continue.

“I don’t know. Rather than doing everything I now do nothing. Christmas Eve is normally spent bingeing wine and TV and the day itself is spent eating chocolate and trying to avoid family.”

Now that she said it aloud, it seemed entirely pathetic. She couldn’t believe she had just openly admitted this to a stranger but there was something about Jughead’s mannerisms that made you trust him, like you could tell him anything.

“Well it seems to me,” he mused, finishing another mouthful of food, “no one has given you the options. No one has shown you what Christmas can be.”

What Betty hated was the idealistic, commercialised Christmas that everywhere pushed. Maybe he had a point. Maybe it wasn’t the holiday itself but who she was spending it with.

“I have a proposition.” Jughead leant forward so that he could properly engage his date. “Tomorrow you turn up at my house, or I’ll turn up at yours, your choice, and I’ll show you your options, I’ll try to teach you to love Christmas.” Slowly, his hand crept across the table and took one of Betty’s. As she thought, he traced circles on the back of her dainty hand.

“Fine.” Elated (and not really thinking about it) Jughead grabbed hold of her face and kissed her full-force. After realising what he had done, he retracted slightly, so there was a centimetre or so between their lips, but Betty didn’t move. Not quite understanding what had come over her, she followed her desires and took his lips again, this time in a much deeper kiss.

A few seconds later, they separated again and sat back in their seats - both slightly out of breath.

“Movie?” She suggested once they had collected themselves.

“Lead the way.”


	12. Day Twelve - Christmas Eve in a bar

**Day Twelve - Christmas Eve in a bar**

**Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones**

Betty Cooper hated her family. No ifs, ands, or buts, she hated them and that was all. Her dad was rotting in a jail cell, her sister moved away to live her oh-so-perfect life with her wonderful husband and her mother was quite possibly clinically insane. After having the twins and finishing high school, Polly disappeared with Jason one night, leaving nothing but the briefest note to explain why. She wanted the best life and that meant cutting all ties and leaving Riverdale for good. This left Betty and Alice alone, the latter of whom became inconsolable after not only losing her favourite daughter but also her only grandchildren.

Betty had never been able to compare to Polly. Polly was perfect. Polly got perfect grades whilst completing all the extra-curriculars. Polly could not make any mistakes; even after falling pregnant in high school she was still perfect whereas Betty was nothing but a burden. She got decent grades but didn’t top the class. She could not play sports. She could not dance. She could not sing. She tried for the cheerleading team and failed. She wrote for the school paper but that wasn’t good enough for her mother. Betty had gone to prom with her best friends rather than a boy and to Alice, that made her even worse. To Alice Cooper, Betty would never be enough.

Betty hated her family and, because of that, she planned to spend Christmas alone.

She finished work late on the twenty fourth of December and headed straight from the office to the local bar.

“One snowball please.” She ordered as she took her place on the nearest bar stool.

“Sure you don’t want something a bit stronger than that?” A man in a suit came to perch next to her. Although on the surface he looked put together, he had obviously had a few drinks. His tie was slackened around his neck and his collar askew. His black hair was tousled and messy but in an effortlessly cool way, maybe it was never tidy.

Betty couldn’t help the smile that teased her lips; there was something about the slightly lopsided smirk the man wore and the glimmer of mischief in his eyes that made her ever so tempted to entertain him.

“Bourbon, neat.” She corrected the bartender and the man took her compliance as an invitation to move his chair closer to her.

“So, what are you doing all alone in a bar on Christmas Eve.” With the new proximity, Betty could smell the alcohol on his breath but he seemed oddly coherent and composed. Perhaps he had had only one drink and was putting on an act or maybe he had learnt to hold his alcohol through frequenting the pub. Either way, though, he remained oddly charming.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She quipped back, taking a sip from her drink. It burned in just the right way as it slipped down her throat, the new warmth in her chest making up for the frigid temperatures outside.

“Well I,” he chuckled, propping an elbow up on the bar and resting his chin on his fist, “just walked in on my girlfriend of two years fucking an elf. What’s your excuse?”

“Oh my god.” Betty instantly regretted thinking all those horrible things about him. He wasn’t a drunk, he was just hurt. “I’ll buy you a drink.” She motioned to the bartender for another glass of whiskey before leaning against the bar, mirroring his stance. “My family suck and I’m just preparing for another Christmas by myself.”

They each took a sip from their drink and sat in the silence for a moment.

“Let’s get out of here.” Seeing Betty’s eyes almost bulge out of her head, he quickly backtracked, letting slip of the drunken facade. “No! I just meant out of this miserable place, a walk would be nice?”

He was certainly correct about the bar being miserable. A near-comatose elderly man was hunched over in a booth at the back, there was the faint sound of vomiting from the bathroom and, although the bartender seemed conscious, it was clear he was counting the minutes until he could leave.

“A walk would be nice…” Betty thought aloud, wondering if it would sensible to disappear with this mysterious stranger. Her mother would be so incredibly disappointed but wasn’t that part of the fun? The man seemed un-serial-killer-y enough and she had had only one drink so she was still sober enough to be able to make sane decisions during the night. But she didn’t know his name; new criteria for going off with strange men - know their names.

“Do you have a name, oh so mysterious stranger?” Taking the last swig from her glass, she found her purse in her coat pocket and pulled out a few bills. When the man took some bills of his own out, Betty pushed it back towards him and paid for his drinks as well.

“The elf.” Was all she replied to his questioning look.

“I’m Jughead Jones.” He stated, holding her pristine black coat up as she pushed her arms into the sleeves. “And you are?”

“Betty Cooper.” Turning on her heel, she walked out of the pub, holding the door open as Jughead hurried to keep up.

“Where to, Mr Jones?”

“Times Square.” After pulling his coat on and wrapping his scarf around his neck, he offered Betty an arm which she gladly took.

As they begun to walk, snowflakes started to slowly drift from the clouds above. It was purely magical, watching the snow fall from the otherwise pitch black sky - almost as if the stars themselves were falling. Betty was so enamoured that she was fairly certain that if she had not been holding onto Jughead that she would have walked into a lamppost by now.

For the streets of New York, it was fairly quiet. Maybe because of the late time or the amount of people packed into each bar, but the pavement was empty enough that they could comfortably meander side by side. However, this quickly changed as they neared Times Square. The crowds of people navigating the streets increased by tenfold and, as the weather became a blizzard, their speed increased too.

Despite the new conditions, the wind and snow like millions of icicles pricking their skin, they continued until they could hear the faint sound of choir boys. The air was filled with the usual chaotic sounds of the city but the angelic singing of carols floated above it all, delicately dancing its way from the square. Betty pulled the collar of her hood-less coat up as far as it would allow and Jughead tried his absolute best to shelter her from the unforgiving chill. Her frail fingers were ice cold against the palms of his hands where they were nestled and her forehead was against his back as he walked in front, suffering the brunt of the harsh winter weather.

However, it soon became too much; Jughead offered to walk Betty home and, not wanting the night to end, she readily agreed. Knowing a shortcut through more secluded alleyways, it did not take long for them to reach her apartment. The entire walk they spent joking and discussing their life stories. They discovered they had grown up in neighbouring towns and reminisced about how small they world must be for them to have ended in the same bar that night.

Neither seemed all too keen to leave the other. Even when stood in the lobby of the complex their goodbye biddings soon became yet snorger in-depth conversation.

“Merry Christmas, Betty.” They embraced, Betty stretching on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and Jughead’s arm sliding around her waist. Pressing her nose into his shoulder, she inhaled the wonderfully homey scent that was Jughead, her eyelashes fluttering against his neck, tickling his skin.

With his chin resting on her shoulder, he could see in the mirror ahead. As they pulled away, something caught his eyes. Hanging from a ceiling lamp above them was a bunch of mistletoe. For the briefest of moments he considered ignoring it but if not on Christmas Eve, when.

Their eyes locking, he managed to draw the courage from deep inside. “Oh look, mistletoe, how convenient.” He muttered, his lips hovering against hers, waiting for her to close the gap. They met in a heated kiss, relishing in each other’s touch and the affection and adoration they shared for each other after only a few hours.

“Upstairs?” Betty suggested. Jughead nodded and so she took his hand and led him to the lift and to her apartment.

That Christmas, Betty didn’t spend it alone. Jughead forgot about the woman who never really loved him and, instead, they spent the day curled up on the sofa, eating chocolate and watching Christmas Day television. For both of them, it was the best Christmas they had had for a while.


End file.
